


The best thing about fall

by ramblingAnthropologist



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair is a pumpkin spice thief, Before the romance, It's ok Cahel is a hoodie thief, M/M, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-23 21:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingAnthropologist/pseuds/ramblingAnthropologist
Summary: Alistair used to hate fall; it was cold, he had allergies, and the days grew shorter every time he blinked. However, maybe a certain Warden can show him the good things about the season. Or if not, he can at least share his pumpkin spice.





	1. Chapter 1

If he sneezed one more time, Alistair swore he was going to cut his own nose off.

“Maker's breath, is it ever going to end?”

Another sneeze, this time into a napkin he had grabbed at the last second. His eyes were burning, and his sense of small had been lost days ago. All that remained now was phlegm, itchy eyes, and misery for the next month.

Even during a Blight, fall was still fall.

He was lucky for once that they weren't in the middle of a half dead forest or trampling through knee deep mud in the quest to fill some treaties. This time, they were in a reasonably sized city, one that had eye drops so he didn't feel dead.

At least on the outside; he was pretty sure he was dying on the inside regardless.

“Why can't it just go automatically to winter and kill off my bloody allergies?” Alistair sneezed again, nearly smacking his head on the table in front of him in the process. Of course, winter would be even worse out in the field, but at least he wouldn't wake up thinking a frog had been stuffed up his nose overnight. Though, compared to what he was going through, that might have been preferable.

Oh, how he hated fall. School started back up, the days got shorter, and he woke up dying every morning until the first snow fell. If not for the sports that came with the changing of the seasons, he would have been content to sleep through the three months until he woke up in the middle of a snow bank.

Sure, that was technically a coma, but it was preferable to this.

“Can't even find my hoodie.” Yes, the warrior was quite the sorry sight as he waited outside the small Starbucks, shivering as the cold wind bit at the back of his neck. Damn thing had gotten lost, probably in the moving of camp days prior. It was his favorite too, so it put him in an extra sour mood. Honestly, he half expected the ground to open and swallow him up at this rate, just to finish him off.

He was definitely in a fine mood that day.

A scowl crossed Alistair's features as he stared through the window of the coffee shop. Thanks to his position, he could see Cahel waiting for his drink, practically bouncing up and down on his heels. For once, he was actually wearing proper shoes instead of the violently colored flip flops he had preferred over the summer. Apparently, even elves got cold toes.

“What is he waiting for?”

He had to admit, it was somewhat charming to watch his fellow Warden be so enthused. There hadn't been much happiness to go around lately, particularly as they moved towards the mountains and winter. Whatever was bringing him such cheer, it had to be something special.

Maybe he would be nice and share.

“Hope he's getting something hot. I'm freezing.” Another sneeze tanked Alistair's mood as he ducked deeper into his jacket. As soon as they were finished in town, it was back to camp to plan their next move. Which of course, was right in the middle of a bloody forest, just waiting to make him miserable.

Had he mentioned how much he hated fall?

“Thanks for waiting, Al!”

Cahel was outside at last, holding two cups in his outstretched hands. One of them was a simple coffee cup, and the other Alistair would have called a cement colored milkshake with whipped cream on top. He eyed it with suspicion, then looked back down at his friend.

“Aren't you lactose intolerant?”

“It's soy milk, don't worry.” He gave an impudent sip before nudging the other cup towards the warrior. “Here. You said you were cold. You like a lot of milk and a little sugar, right?”

Alistair sighed in relief without meaning to the moment the cup touched his frigid hands. Life washed back into his husk of a body as he took the first sip, and he swore he would have moaned if that sort of thing was acceptable in the middle of a semi-busy street. It wasn't, so instead he hummed a little as they started walking back to the group meeting place.

With friends like that, maybe he might survive.

Still... he cast a glance back to Cahel, who continued to sip at his strange concoction. At least he too was mortal and cold – the sleeves of his hoodie were pulled well over his hands to allow for some insulation from the tan colored liquid. It was a familiar one, actually, now that he reflected on it.

“I didn't know you liked pumpkin spice.”

The elf grinned as he bounced a step ahead. “Damn right I do. Creators bless the shem who came up with it.”

Yeah, Alistair was pretty sure it didn't work that way, but who was he to talk religion when his friend looked so damn happy. His eyes were actually sparkling, and it wasn't because it was dark out either. That's what the damn pumpkin spice did to him.

No wonder people liked it so much: it was magical.

Maybe that was why words slipped from his mouth. “What's it taste like?”

“Here, try it for yourself.” The cup was shoved into his face, straw just barely missing his eye. “Just don't drink all of it like you did last time.”

Since it was food, he was more than happy to give it a try. So, Alistair bent down in order to take a quick sip, careful not to smack straight into the cup or its owner. While it wasn't bad at all, a different thought hit him dead on as he drank from the straw, eyes dead on the elf.

Both of their lips had been on it. Didn't that count as an indirect kiss?

From the looks of things, both reached the same thought at a similar time. It was Cahel who broke contact first, face turning blood red as he sped up a few steps to give both some distance. That left the warrior behind, face hot enough to cook an egg on it.

“So uh, did you like it?”

“... uh, yeah, I guess. I think I'll stick with coffee though.” Alistair was glad to have something to hide his burning face as both tried to avoid looking at the other. It made the walk back to their meeting place more than a little awkward to say the least.

On the bright side, it allowed him to take a look at the leaves that would soon be falling to the ground and turned into mush. Ferelden might have had its downsides, but it definitely was at its best during the fall. It was as if the trees were on fire, showing off their shades of crimson, orange, and gold just above their heads.

If he had been pressed, Alistair would have said before it was one of the only things he enjoyed about the season. Now... perhaps he could add a few things to his list. Like the fact that Cahel's hair matched the brilliant reds of the trees perfectly, or how the sweetness of pumpkin spice took out the bite of the cold weather.

Or, maybe it was just his allergies finally killing him. Maker only knew.

“We should get back. Mamae said she found something cool to show us while she was out with Sten.”

Knowing Cherche, they might be heading back to a new strain of poison she could use to horrify nobles and win bar bets. So, maybe Alistair didn't mind going a little slow as he sipped at his coffee, keeping his eye on the elf in front of him.

Maybe he was mistaken, but the hoodie poking out from under his jacket looked awfully familiar...

Wait.

“Is that my hoodie?”

Cahel froze mid step, allowing him a better view. There was no doubt about it: that was his red Ferelden Mabaris hoodie, the one with the ears sewn on the hood. Thanks to the jacket, he had missed it until then, but there was no denying the proof. It had been in front of his face the entire time, and he had been too blind to notice.

“Uh... well, you see-”

And then Cahel took off running, scattering fallen leaves as he sprinted towards their meeting spot. Alistair was left behind, staring at where the elf had been only moments prior. Another second of waiting, and he was almost out of sight entirely.

Luckily, he had longer legs.

“Get back here, you hoodie thief!”

And so he took off running after him, kicking up more leaves with every step. His allergies and the taste of certain milkshakes were forgotten for the moment as he chased after his missing sweatshirt, finding it hard to be too mad. After all, a certain elf had made it look almost damn good.

Maybe he was starting to find some favorite things about fall after all. Maybe; it was still the worst for his nose.

 


	2. Five years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's fall again, and Alistair's still dying. Luckily, he has a cute husband to steal pumpkin spice from.

Fall had come once again to Ferelden, as it always did. The leaves turned crimson and golden while they littered the ground with color, blown by the winds of winter showing their fangs. The days were beginning to grow short once more, so errand runners of all kinds hurried about the busy square in Denerim's main shopping district. Just one more errand perhaps until the night drew in and with it colder weather.

It would have been a beautiful sight if he wasn't so bloody congested.

Alistair sneezed into a napkin for what felt like the thousandth time that day alone. His eyes still burned, even with the drops in them. If not for the business he had later, it would have been allergy medicine and a nap for him.

Sadly, being the King meant he had to be awake and lucid; that was the price of wearing the stupid crown.

“What's taking him so long?” He frowned as he peered past the glass shop front, decorated with promotions and bright pictures of pumpkins. Starbucks was still fairly busy that time of day, but the line wasn't so long that it would take the time that it had. Had he run off or been intercepted?

Something warm pressed into the back of Alistair's neck, causing him to jump and turn. Maybe because he had spent the last five years ruling, but his reflexes weren't as sharp as they could have been. If that had been a knife, he would have been done for.

Luckily, it was just a coffee cup.

“Did I scare you?” Cahel was beaming as he handed over the offending article, gripping his own drink in his free hand. Once again, he had gone for what Alistair jokingly called 'a glorified coffee milkshake' rather than coffee at a bloody coffee shop. He was a weird one, no doubt about it.

But they were married, so he was kind of stuck with it.

The king pouted as he took a sip of his drink – his husband had remembered how he liked it. “I'm going to make it a law you can't do that, you know.”

“Oh and what's the punishment? Are you going to lock me in the dungeons?” Cahel snorted as he whirled on his heel, so his front was to Alistair. His eyes and tattoos so perfectly matched the sky, and the red of his hair was still in harmony with the leaves around them. He was made for fall, or at least his husband had realized that since their wedding day.

Now there was an idea... pity they were in public.

Alistair chuckled softly as he reached out to take the elf's hand. “Oh, don't start on that again. You'll have your mother believe you've got me tied to the rack when we're alone.”

“Hey, it got Eamon off our back last time he asked.”

Cahel's fingers were cold from his drink, but Alistair was more than happy to warm them up as they started their walk together. With how busy both had been, it was nice to get a bit of fresh air without anyone bothering them. If that included caffeine in the mix, all the better.

They stopped at a table under a tree, more the better for people watching. The elf still liked to perch on the edge of his seat as he slurped away at the magic that was pumpkin spice, and by now his husband had just grown used to it. It was one of his quirks.

“Can I have some of that?” Alistair reached out his hand towards it. When Cahel shifted it back, he added, “I promise just a sip.”

“Last time you said it you drank the whole bloody thing.” Still, he nudged it back over to allow the king to steal some. Really, the indirect kiss factor shouldn't have been a thing to them still, given they had been married for years. They could kiss whenever they wanted, and often did.

Still, both of their faces turned a pleasant pink, and it wasn't because of the sudden wind that churned up the leaves in front of them. Sometimes, it was just nice to be silly like that, especially when they were alone.

After a small amount of time, Cahel took back his drink. He scowled as he shook the plastic cup, listening as the remains of the magical pumpkin spice concoction sloshed against the sides. There was a lot of air there, more than there had been before.

“Creators, you drank like half of it!”

“I did not, you're making it up.” and yet Alistair had a little whipped cream on his nose to further hint at his dastardly thievery, a mark he made no effort to wipe away. When it came down to it, sometimes it was damn good to be the king.

Rolling his eyes, Cahel reached across the table to wipe the evidence off his nose. His allowed a slightly cheeky grin as he popped his finger into his mouth to lick it off, eyes practically sparkling. Motionless, Alistair couldn't help but think he was the luckiest man in Ferelden.

Well, apart from the allergies. Those sucked.

It would have been a perfect afternoon, but the sudden vibration of a cell phone drew the king's attention away from his prince. He sighed as he pulled it out of his pocket, grimacing once he realized who it was from.

“It's Eamon.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

Alistair didn't, of course. Instead, he read the text he had been sent. Eamon needed him back for some last minute work, apparently crucial. On the Eamon scale of severity, that meant some mildly annoying paperwork that had to be done inside.

Great.

Sighing, the king stood up. “I better get back. You can stay here if you want; nothing says the both of us have to be miserable.”

However, Cahel joined him in the walk back to the castle, still sipping at the remains of his drink. Even after five years, he still used the sleeve of his over-sized hoodie to shield his hands from the cold. A very familiar hoodie, actually, now that Alistair looked at it.

Well, that explained where his Ferelden Mabaris sweatshirt had gotten to again.

“You know if you want I can get you your own.” He tugged on the hood for emphasis. His husband chuckled and swatted his hand away, breaking out into a light sprint until there was some distance between them. When he was safe, he whirled around to face him.

“I like this one. It smells like you.”

And then he was gone, heading back towards the castle at a fast pace. Well, two could play at that game. A grin stretched Alistair's face as he broke out into a run after the elf, kicking up leaves with every step.

Even though a lot had changed in five years, there were still some things the same. The leaves were beautiful, it was getting colder, and his husband was a bloody hoodie thief. Well, there would be plenty of kisses in punishment once he caught him.

Truly, he had to admit fall really was one of his favorite seasons, even if it did mean dying every morning. It wasn't perfect, but it was still pretty good.

 


End file.
